


Derek Protects His

by Cielestine_de_Winter



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Secret Occupations, Writer Derek, hurt/ comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cielestine_de_Winter/pseuds/Cielestine_de_Winter
Summary: Dere may seem like a walking disaster, but don’t mess with his pack.  It doesn’t matter who you are, he’ll be sure you’ll get what’s coming to you.





	Derek Protects His

Truth was, Derek never really spent that much time with non weres. He had some friends while he was in high school who were human, but Derek’s sense of smell had grown exponentially more powerful when he became alpha. The pain buried within the soft warmth of Stiles’s vitality and love was easy to miss. The others, Scott included, didn’t seem to notice it. 

The smell of pain wasn’t constant. It was stronger after Stiles was injured, lingering for days. But it also spiked occasionally after nothing more than a late night. Derek sometimes thought that maybe, Stiles was in pain; but the teen didn’t act like he was in pain. He didn’t flinch; he pushed himself harder than the others and there was no hint that something was amiss. So Derek figured he was fine and it was just a part of his scent. 

But like a bad 80’s power ballad, the scent of Stiles’s pain replayed over and over in Derek’s mind. 

The other thing that pissed him off was Stiles’s inability to dress for the weather. The kid always wore at least three layers regardless of the season or how fucking hot it got. Derek noticed it during a freak heatwave early in the summer. Even with his werewolf indifference to the heat, he was affected. Everyone else wore as little as they could and swam almost constantly in the pond on the Hale lands. Even Lydia, the queen of comfort, lowered herself to actually swimming in the pond after Jackson’s physiology had an unfortunate reaction to the chemicals in her pool. Derek had been impressed at how good of a swimmer she was. Stiles’s, as though reading his mind, told him that when she was younger, she was captain of her junior high swim team. Won every race she entered, Stiles said proudly as he sat next to him as they watched the others swim. Derek had already swam and was content to watch his pack enjoy themselves on his land. 

Derek’s eyes scanned the water, unconsciously identifying and watching over his pack, then lifted his eyes to Stiles who was sitting, cross legged on a blanket next to him. Tee shirt with some obscure anime character, a flannel, and a hoodie. Sweat ran down Stiles’s hairline, but he smiled and looked more relaxed and happy than he had for weeks. Derek lost himself in the homey smell that surrounded him. 

“You’ll never stop looking like a corpse with all those layers on,” Derek said in his usual deadpan. Others thought he was an asshole, but Stiles only smiled, getting Derek’s brand of humor. 

“Not all of us can be sun kissed gods like the rest of you,” Stiles replied quickly. “All of you look like an ad for a very expensive cologne.” 

Derek looked at him, not changing his dour expression. Figures Stiles would read Vogue or (god forbid) Cosmo. 

“What? They have interesting articles and Lydia has a subscription to all of them,” Stiles said seeming to read Derek’s mind again. “Don’t give me your judgey eyebrows! They have good advice in them! Lydia’s confirmed it.” 

“They reinforce an unattainable and unrealistic expectation,” Derek said looking back out at the pack. “Don’t twist yourself to meet someone else’s expectations. It’s stupid.” You’re perfect. 

Stiles looked at Derek with a quizzical smile. “They also give a bird’s eye view of how other people think.” 

“Sensationalized,” Derek scoffed. 

“Aren’t all good stories are exaggerated in some way,” Stiles said with a beautiful smile that Derek could get lost in. “I would expect you to understand, being that you’re a world famous author and everything.” 

Derek’s focus snapped back into place. “No one knows about that.” 

Stiles suddenly grew serious. “No. The only person who might link you to Andrew Mortimer would be Lydia. I don’t think she’d care if she knew.” 

Derek forced himself not to change his expression and he stood up and walked back to his car. 

  
  


Okay, so Derek wasn’t good with feelings. He wanted to be. He wanted to be more affectionate with his pack and not so much of a dick to Stiles. He wanted to share with them how happy and content he was when they all were together. Or when Stiles would stay late at his loft researching the newest threat against the pack. He wanted to let them know how their smells coiled together tightly to create an almost tangible sense of home. 

But then the fear of losing them would yank him back. The thought of losing _ this _ paralyzed him. He couldn’t risk losing another pack. Another family. 

Stiles seemed to understand. He often would smooth out Derek’s rough edges. After they settled into their quasi partnership, Derek enjoyed his time with him and often would request Stiles research things not pack related. He knew he probably shouldn’t be surprised that Stiles’s knew his secret. He was often was tempted to tell him outright just so he could bounce ideas off that brilliant mind but he always stopped himself. However, when he was caught off guard, his limited social skills fled leaving the wolf to take charge. In typical fight or flight fashion, Derek’s wolf reacted by fleeing as quickly as he could. 

Even his wolf knew he was no match for Stiles. 

Anyways, Derek wasn’t good at feelings, social interactions, or anything that might have to do with not being a complete jerk. But at that moment, he was annoyed as hell that Stiles was so stupidly obstinate. 

“No, I’m not going to break the wolfsbane circle around my house. You have a cell phone and I usually pick up right away. I don’t need my dad to shoot any of you because you tried to climb in my window.” 

“Do it,” Derek ground out. 

“The short answer is no, Failwolf, but I can go on for hours about how I’m not going to listen to you. Or you can just tell me why you called in the first place and I can get to doing what I was doing before you called.” 

A strange thought jumped into his head causing Derek to freeze. “Were you jerking off?” 

Stiles’s heart beat shuddered for a moment and he sighed. “Yes, you caught me out. Me and Stiles jr. were having one great big sausage fest. Now what do you want so I can get back to spanking the monkey?” 

The flutter in Stiles’s heartbeat could have been because Stiles’s was embarrassed, but Derek didn’t think so. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but it was another thing about Stiles that didn’t seem… right. Rather than admit that he couldn’t remember why he called, his mind pretty blown by the thought of Stiles’s pleasuring himself, Derek growled. “Sprites.” 

There was a pause. “You just made that up,” Stiles accused him. 

Okay, so maybe Derek needed to take that mind reading thing Stiles seemed to have going with him a little more seriously. “Stop arguing with me.” He could just picture Stiles holding the phone to his ear, looking out with his eyes unfocused. He probably was chewing his lower lip without realizing it again. “It’s for a project I’m working on.” Derek said grudgingly. 

“Is this for a book?” Stiles asked excitedly. 

Fuck. Abort. End the fucking call. 

“You’ve never written supernatural fiction! Your historical stuff is awesome, by the way…” 

Disconnect the call, Derek’s mind shouted at him. Get out of the conversation. 

“…what are you thinking?” 

Derek opened his mouth to end the damn call, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a flood of half thought out story ideas burst out of his throat. 

That’s how Stiles managed to keep Derek on the phone for hours. Talking through story lines with Stiles was as amazing as he imagined. As the sun was just starting to rise, Stiles abruptly got off the phone, mumbling that his father was home and Derek was left cradling his phone with a small smile on his lips. 

  
  


Derek didn’t see Stiles for almost a week after the call. Scott made some ridiculously transparent lie about Stiles being busy, but Derek didn’t question him too closely. His wolf took exception to this and enjoyed knocking the shit out of Scott during training. 

Just as he was about to try breaking through the barrier again, Stiles suddenly made an appearance. His scent was as delicious as ever, but there was that odd tang of pain that made the hair on the scruff of Derek’s neck rise. 

“Scotty said you were more surly than usual. I didn’t think that was possible, Sourwolf,” Stiles said standing shoulder to shoulder with Derek while watching the others. 

“Go join the others,” Derek growled. 

Stiles just smiled and walked over to his friends. 

“And take off some of your idiotic layers!” Derek shouted. 

Stiles just flashed him the bird. 

Derek watched as Allison walked them through some throws. Stiles was paired up with Lydia again and the red haired banshee had no trouble tossing him around like a rag doll. Stiles gave as good as he got, his respect for Lydia didn’t allow him to give her anything less than everything. Derek’s nose twitched as the pain in Stiles’s scent started to spike. 

Derek watched for a few minutes before his wolf roared at him to stop it. “We’re done for the day,” he called. 

The pack looked at him in surprise. They had only been training for a half hour. A sudden and remarkably Stiles’s like suggestion popped in his head. “Movies. My place. I’ll order pizza.” He turned on his heel and walked away, ignoring the shocked faces of his pack. 

  
  


Jackson and Lydia were the first to arrive. Derek heard them pull into the parking lot in front of his loft. They waited a few minutes before Allison and Scott pulled in. After several long minutes there was an almost timid knock on his door. 

“It’s open!” He shouted. 

Scott walked in, followed closely by the others. They looked around Derek’s loft nervously. “Do you want us to shower?” Scott said cautiously. 

Derek looked at him blankly and then remembered that Stiles wasn’t there to interpret for him. “If you want to,” he shrugged. His mind raced. “Or you could just pick out the movies we’re going to watch.” 

And just like that, the ice melted. Allison and Lydia took charge of the TV and Scott and Jackson sat down next to the vainly trying to give their input. Stiles, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd joined them a few minutes later weighed down by what seemed like a million bags filled with enough sugar and caffeine that Derek was pretty sure no one would be sleep that night…. Or the weekend for that matter. Derek stood awkwardly as he watched Allison take Stiles’s seat on the couch. He and Stiles always sat in the middle of the couch, their shoulders usually touching. 

“Come on, Sourwolf, you get the reading chair. That way no one will invade your personal space!” Stiles said handing him his favorite type of bottled water. Derek sat down and was pleased when Stiles sat on the floor at the foot of his chair. He had no idea what they watched; his focus was solely on the tantalizing strip of skin above the neck of Stiles’s hoodie. Derek regretfully had to move away from Stiles when the pizza came, but almost purred in contentment when Stiles didn’t move from his spot. 

After the second (or third, he couldn’t remember) movie the others started moving around and getting ready to leave. Stiles was sleeping peacefully against Derek’s leg, his warm body leaning against him. 

“Come on, Stiles, get up,” Scott said stretching. 

“Let him sleep,” Derek said softly. “He looks like he needs it. I’ll make sure he gets home by midnight.” 

“Midnight!” Scott blinked. He tore his phone out of his pocket and looked at the clock. “Stiles!” He said louder as his heart raced. “Stiles, get up! It’s 10:20.” 

“What’s the big deal?” Erica asked. “It’s a Friday night and his curfew isn’t until midnight.” 

“You wouldn’t understand!” Scott grabbed Stiles by the shoulder. 

For the first time in Derek’s stalking Stiles while in denial phase (read since they’ve met) Stiles flinched away from Scott’s hand. The scent of pain flooded Derek’s senses and his wolf broke free. He bared his teeth and growled. 

Scott was too busy to notice. “It’s 10:20! Your dad…” 

Stiles sat up abruptly. “Shit!” He looked apologetically at Erica and Boyd. 

“Go!” Scott urged. “I’ll take them home. Just go!” he rushed Stiles out the door. 

The door slammed shut and a silence fell on the room. 

“What the actual fuck?” Erica said loudly. 

“Hey, let me take you home so I can get Allison back before her father…” 

Lydia coldly interrupted Scott’s nervous babble. “What is wrong with Stiles?” She demanded, each word it’s own sentence. 

“Nothing,” Scott growled using his true Alpha voice. The others cowered slightly and turned away. Even Allison looked a little shaken at Scott’s use of his power. Derek just looked on thoughtfully. Scott’s power had a limited affect on him. “Who wants a ride?” He asked in his normal voice. 

Derek resigned himself to a late night visit to the McCall house later as he watched his subdued pack leave. He shrugged his shoulders and started cleaning up. 

  
  


Scott was awake when Derek knocked on his window. Melissa’s car wasn’t in the driveway so Derek figured she had the night shift. Scott opened his window and Derek crawled in. He leaned against the wall and looked at Scott. 

Scott avoided his eyes. “Look, it’s nothing. I overreacted like an idiot and Stiles will probably kick my butt.” 

“Is he in danger?” Derek said evenly. 

“No!” Scott denied. 

Derek wanted to put his fist through a wall. “Scott, you know I can tell when you’re lying.” 

“It’s nothing Stiles’s can’t handle. He’s been handling it on his own for years!” 

“Maybe this isn’t something he should be handling on his own,” Derek growled. Without another word he turned and left. 

  
  


“This is highly questionable,” Lydia observed and she stepped away from her car. 

“But you’ll do it because you know Stiles could be in trouble,” Derek said flatly. 

Lydia walked over to the line of wolfsbane. “You really care for him, don’t you?” She said crouching down next to the line. 

Derek made a fist with his hands and crossed them in front of him. “Can you do it?” 

“Of course I can. Stiles wouldn’t have made something intentionally that could keep me out.” She said turning back to Derek. “We’re each other’s failsafes, just incase we get out of control.” 

Derek frowned. 

“I love him like a brother I don’t want,” Lydia said spreading her hands and scattering the wolfsbane. “Don’t mess this up, Derek Hale.” 

Derek didn’t bother to respond. He leapt through the opening and bounded up to Stiles’s house. 

Derek cautiously sniffed the window before he popped the lock and slowly lifted it. He almost staggered when the scent of blood and sweat knocked into him. He crawled in and looked around. 

“Is that you Scotty?” Stiles slurred. 

Derek’s eyes locked onto what he had originally discounted as a pile of dirty clothes He fell to his knees next to it. 

Stiles’s right eye was swollen shut, the corner of his mouth cut and bleeding. His left cheek visibly throbbed. Derek could smell other injuries on him, but his wolf was fighting for control. He wanted to kill whoever did this. 

“Could you do the pain thing?” Stiles asked. “I need to sit up and check my ankle.” 

Derek found it hard to keep his hands from shaking as he touched the skin of Stiles’s neck. He drew out the pain, but was floored at how much was there. Before Derek could even make a dent in it, Stiles sat up with a groan. 

“Bad idea,” Stiles said as he fought to keep the pizza he had for dinner down. 

Derek slipped his hand under all of Stiles’s layers and touched his bare back. His sensitive fingertips traced raised welts and scars. Some were long and deep. Others were small and jagged. “Relax, just breath with me,” Derek said taking a deep breath. 

Stiles froze. “You’re not Scott. Derek? Who helped you through the…. Fuck! Lydia knows!” 

“I’m going to pick you up and take you to the hospital.” 

“No! No hospitals!” Stiles said, hissing slightly as Derek picked him up. “Derek! Please, don’t do this! Great!” Stiles whispered. “And your brilliant plan is to walk right past him? He might be drunk, but he’s still a cop.” 

“A pretty piss poor one if he beats his own son,” Derek snapped. 

“He doesn’t beat me!” Stiles hissed back. “I was grounded. I shouldn’t have left the house tonight. He was justifiably angry. He had a little too much to drink and lost control for a minute or two.” 

Derek was quiet as they passed the snoring sheriff. The room stank of stale booze. “Nothing justifies him hurting you like this.” He walked as quickly as he dared, scared that he was going to jostle Stiles’s injuries. 

“Look. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He just wants to keep me safe,” Stiles said, his voice slightly strangled. 

Derek looked down and noticed that he was clutching Stiles’s uncomfortably close to his chest. “Sorry,” Derek said quickly loosening his grip. 

“Besides, he wouldn’t do it if I didn’t lie all the time.” Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s shirt as Derek leaned down to open his car door. Derek slipped him in the seat then buckled him in. 

Derek rushed to the driver’s side and slid in. 

“Fuck,” Stiles gasped. Derek reached over and took his hand. Stiles relaxed slightly. “Please tell me Melissa’s working tonight.” 

“She is,” Derek answered. “Why keep lying to your dad? Just tell him the truth. I’d stay with you and give him a demonstration if he had doubts.” 

Stiles gaped at him. 

“Melissa already knows and it might be beneficial if she had someone to confide with.” 

“And you would be good with this?” Stiles asked disbelieving. 

“We’d ask the pack first. I’d want them to have a say, but if it keeps this from happening, then I know they will be all for it.” 

“I don’t want them to know.” 

“I think it’s a little late for that.” 

“Fuck,” Stiles mumbled to his window. 

“He’ll also know that you’re protected. He don’t raise a hand to you if you are living with me.” 

“What?” 

“You definitely can’t go back there. If this is what happens when he drinks, he needs to stop. At least until he gets into a program and sticks with it for a few months.” 

“I don’t need to be saved.” 

“Yes, you do. We all need to be saved. I need to be saved from myself almost daily.” Derek glanced at him. “And you know who saves me?” 

Stiles’s eye was wide as he shook his head. 

“You. Idiot. You have this weird six sense about what I’m thinking. You get me out of my head and pull it out of my ass. I’m not going to lose you because your alcoholic father has anger issues and has fucked with your head to make you believe you deserve to be treated like this.” 

Derek knew without looking at Stiles’s was still staring at him. Unfortunately, the dam that held his thoughts in couldn’t be saved. “And it sickens me that Melissa and Scott were in on this. I don’t care if you begged them not to tell. They had a responsibility as your friend and a nurse to report this. Or at least stop it.” 

“Wow,” Stiles said softly. “That was like someone in one of your books.” 

Derek fought with himself for a minute before giving in. “I can be more honest when I write. I can… I channel what I want to say or how I feel into my characters. It’s…” 

“Cathartic,” Stiles finished for him. 

“Peter,” Derek took a breath. “Peter gave me my first note book when I was a kid. I carried it around with me everywhere. Filled it in a few weeks. Got my next one that very same day.” Derek smiled at the memory. “Laura once thought to would be funny to steal one of them and read it. She woke me up in the middle of the night to get the next one.” He pulled into the hospital. “I need you to let me help you through this. I need to help.” 

Derek pulled into a parking space and stared ahead for a few minutes. Stiles just sat, not moving, waiting him out. 

“The pack is… very important to me. I can’t lose them.” 

“What about me?” Stiles asked in a small voice. 

Derek turned to look at him. “You are the center of the pack. It’s heart and soul. And to be honest, it’s brain most of the time too.” Derek flashed a pained smile. “I’m the alpha of this pack. It’s heart and soul is mine too. My mate.” 

Derek and Stiles sat in the car looking at each other for a long minute. Finally Derek turned away. “I wasn’t going to mention it unless it came up,” Derek said awkwardly. “I mean. I don’t even know if you’re interested.” He had to keep rambling to stop the sound of Stiles’s fast erratic heartbeat from driving him crazy. “Look, this isn’t the time or the place. We’ll talk later. When you’ve had time.” 

“My answer isn’t going to change.” Stiles said seriously. 

Maybe it was the tone in Stiles’s voice, or the fact that every fucking thing in Derek’s life turning into a raging inferno of shit, but Derek could physically feel his heart breaking. His stomach dropped and for a second he was trapped in a hell of agony. He tore out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He took a step then fell to his knees. With no conscious thought, he threw his head back and howled. 

Derek howled until the echos of his pain were heard in the howls of his pack. Suddenly there were arms around his neck. “Yes. The answer is yes. It‘s always been yes.” Stiles said into his ear. 

Derek stopped and hugged Stiles tightly to him. He buried his face in Stiles’s neck and inhaled deeply. Stiles stiffened and Derek pulled back. He quickly started pulling Stiles pain away and picked him up. “Let’s get you to Melissa.” He half growled. 

Melissa met them at the door. She had a tired, half smirk that said that she had wanted to say something snarky about Derek’s not at all inconspicuous performance in the parking lot, but one look at Stiles’s face melted the smirk off hers. She instantly became clinically professional. 

The next few hours were a blur. The beating his father gave him re injured sprains and fractures his father had given him the week before. A piece of Stiles’s broken rib had embedded itself into one of Stiles’s internal organs. He literally had been bleeding to death. 

The pack had arrived minutes after Melissa brought Stiles back. The wolves had known something was wrong with their alpha, even Scott had come. In short, clipped words Derek told them about Stiles’s injuries. His wolf wanted to tear into Scott, but Lydia beat him to it. 

Before Lydia could do any lasting damage, Derek interrupted her. “Stop. That’s enough. Allison, take Isaac to the loft and stay with him. Lydia, Jackson, go home and rest. I’ll need you to come back tomorrow morning so Erica and Boyd can go home and get some sleep. Erica, Boyd, get some coffee for all of us. Scott, wait here.” 

The others left without saying a word. 

“Look, I know what you think my mom and I are doing is wrong, but hear me out. Social Services is bad. You don’t know what kind of shit happens at group homes. Don’t do this to him. He only has one year left. Just one year. Then he can get out and not…”. Scott’s voice cracked. “Derek, please.” 

Derek knew all about the horrors of group homes. Before Laura had gotten custody of him, he spent a few nights in one. Derek nodded tightly once. “He lives with me.” 

Scott’s mouth fell open. 

“He lives with me and we have the Hale House rebuilt. The others won’t understand, but I’ll talk to them. This is pack. Your most important job as alpha is to care for your pack. I know I’m no good at this, so I’ll need your support.” 

“You’ll never get his dad to agree to this.” 

“I think I will.” 

“You can’t hurt him. It would kill Stiles.” 

As angry as it made his wolf, Derek knew Scott was right. He took a long slow breath. “Go to Allison and Isaac. Make sure Isaac is okay.” 

Scott nodded and left. 

Derek pulled out his phone and started planning. 

  
  


Three weeks later, Derek was descending the staircase down to the main level of his loft and was greeted by a loud, complementary gasp. He preened slightly as he fixed the cuffs of his starched white button down shirt underneath his blue Armani suit jacket. It was tailored to his impressive physic flawlessly. He knew he looked good. 

“Fuck.” 

Derek smirked and looked over to where Stiles was ensconced on the couch with a fluffy blanket. His face was flushed and his eyes were huge. The bruises had faded from his skin leaving unblemished sun kissed skin. “Maybe in a year,” he said with a flirty smile. “I have a copy of Secretary somewhere on my shelves. You can watch it and give me some ideas of what we can do when I wear this suit. I’ll put the movie in for you so you can watch it during my meeting.” 

“You are killing me,” Stiles laughed fondly. 

Derek found the movie on his shelf and put it in the blue ray player. “Need anything from the kitchen?” 

“Are there blowjobs in the kitchen?” Stiles asked hopefully. 

Derek laughed. “No, Stiles. Stay on the couch and text me if you need anything.” 

“Yes, mom.” 

Derek walked over and caged Stiles in his arms. He leaned forward just slightly so he could lightly scent his mate. “Don’t you mean, ‘Daddy’?” He whispered. 

Stiles gasped, his arousal scenting the air. 

“I’ll bring you the tissues and open a window,” Derek teased as he stood up. 

“I like this,” Stiles said suddenly. 

Derek looked at him quizzically. 

“Thank you,” Stiles smiled. 

Derek smiled back and made his way to his car. 

  
  


Sheriff Stilinski was waiting with Andrew Whittemore, Jackson’s father and Derek’s lawyer. The sheriff’s face was mottled, a clear indication that he hadn’t sobered up since Derek had seen him last. 

“Where is my boy?” He demanded angrily. “Where is Stiles?” 

“Safe,” Andrew said calmly. “Mr. Hale is looking after his well-being.” 

“Are you touching him? That’s statutory rape. I’ll put in you in prison for that!” 

Derek glanced calmly at Andrew, refusing to be baited by John’s blustering. Andrew opened up a thick folder and started laying out 8 x 10 glossy photographs of Stiles’s numerous injuries. Melissa might not have told anyone, but she had documented every injury and bruise on the hope that someone could help him. 

John looked at the photographs and his heart sped up. “This isn’t want it looks like.” 

“Really? Because I have 6 years of evidence that assures me that it is exactly what it looks like,” Andrew said placing a small stack of papers in front of John. “These are Stiles’s emancipation papers. I would like you to read and sign them with the contract underneath.” 

“Contract?” John asked softly. 

“You make not effort to contact Stiles. You do not even as much as pull him over for speeding. You get into a treatment program and stick with it. Before you are cleared to see your son again, you must be clean for at least 6 months.” 

“And if I don’t sign?” 

“Then we go to court. Open court and you’ll have to face your child on the witness stand and tell the world how you put him in the hospital the day you buried his mother.” 

Derek had to hand it to Jackson’s father. The man certainly knew how to get what he wanted. 

John picked up the pen and signed the papers.


End file.
